


Pinning Shadows

by Geckos_climbing_pole



Series: To Catch a Polecat [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geckos_climbing_pole/pseuds/Geckos_climbing_pole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Citadel's one and only rock star finally comes face to face with one very shy Polecat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinning Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Just writing a whole heap of one-shots with Gecko and Doof. This is kind of separate to my first fic [**Chrome Heart Shining**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4226262) but I'd still encourage you to read both if you enjoy Gecko :)  
>   
>  Set in [HallowedNight's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/pseuds/HallowedNight) [**Blood and Clay**](http://archiveofourown.org/series/260212) verse (which is amazing).
> 
> More information about my OCs that might make this fic make a bit more sense can be found here: [Gecko](http://all-doofed-out.tumblr.com/post/121200616131/gecko-war-boy-polecat)

High up on an outcrop of the Citadel’s tallest spire, a slender War Boy covered in tattoos was lying with his belly against the rock, half his torso leaning over the ledge of a large hole. The hole actually served as a skylight to the Doof Warrior’s chamber, and was on a steep angle against the cliff. The sheerness or height didn’t bother Gecko in the slightest, he was in his element after all, and currently had his eyes half closed as he listened to the gentle guitar strains that floated up to him. The Immortan’s Herald was relaxing in his hammock, idly strumming away, and Gecko was completely entranced by the sounds those long and nimble fingers could produce.

Coma, on the other hand, was more than alert to the presence that watched him from above. Blind he may be, but his hearing was acutely sharp even if his Wagon’s speakers made his ears ring for days after a raid. For a while now, Doof knew there'd been someone following him, watching him. At first he’d shrugged it off; he cut a striking and popular figure amongst the War Boys. He was rare. He was unique. A few even thought of him as some kind of heralding angel of V8, come down from Valhalla with the Immortan himself. The image amused the little guitarist. He knew where he was from, and though he was grateful to Joe for giving him a place in this world, he knew the man was no god. He didn’t need eyes to know that.

So, it was natural that the Doof Warrior would attract admiring and curious gazes. He felt those looks slide off him every day, heard those and excitable gasps and mumbled words of praise. But this was different. The presence above him now was always silent, and always kept their distance. Unlike other War Boys, this one had not yet approached him to talk his ear off with hero-worship, nor had he begged for one night with the Immortan’s Herald, no doubt to test if the rumours were true about his fabled magic fingers (they were).

Somehow the presence above him could follow Coma wherever he went, even into his own secluded chamber. Nimble and sure-footed as a lizard his silent watcher seemed; the soft, barely-there scraping of soles on stone the now familiar tell-tale sign that Doof was not alone.

And then the gifts began appearing. Every now and then when Doof would walk the familiar path across his room he’d step on a random object, or find something strange in his hammock. At first, Doof thought it was a prank, as more than once he nearly tripped over whatever was left in his way, and he’d usually throw the offending object out in annoyance. But one time he'd trodden on something soft. The shape of the little object was unfamiliar to Doof (it was something with four limbs and round ears) but if there was one delight that the little guitarist savoured it was touching soft things. So he kept the thing. It lived in his hammock now.

Coma reckoned the gifts could be from none other but his silent watcher, but to what they were supposed to mean he had no clue. He knew that he could always just ask one of his Drummers to bring the boy to him, but the mystery had been intriguing. Now, however, the little musician felt it high time he met his admirer properly.

Smiling, he traced one long hand against the back of his guitar, brushing over the small throwing knives he kept strapped there. Abruptly he stopped strumming, clicked his tongue once to gauge direction, and quick as a desert snake threw one of the knives upwards.

The butt of the knife handle sharply smacked Gecko’s face, and, caught off-guard, he lost his grip and toppled forwards into Doof’s hammock. Before he even had a chance to collect himself, he’d rolled down till where Doof was sitting and the tiny warrior was on him in a flash, straddling the Polecat and pinning his arms above his head.

Colour immediately flooded Gecko’s face, and his chest constricted tightly. Doof was _close_ , so close, he was _touching him_. Gecko felt dizzy, he could feel Coma’s hands - those beautiful, magical hands - on his skin, the musician’s own weight pressing down on him, setting every minuscule nerve ending in Gecko’s body aflame. He forgot to even breathe; torn between desire and the urge to run. But Doof’s grip was deceptively strong for being such a small and slight man, and all of Gecko’s limbs felt like soft rubber. The dark red union suit the guitarist always wore was unbuttoned, exposing Gecko to a pale V of bare chest.

The boy’s pulse was beating wildly under Coma’s hands, vibrating as fast as a thrumming power chord. The musician leant down slightly as if studying the boy's face, his tone one that was between a growl and purr.

“You’ve been my fuckin’ shadow for weeks now, haven’t ya, boy? Could feel ya eyes on me. How’d ya like being up close n’ personal ay?

The boy’s swallow was audible. And then Doof felt him start to squirm.

“Uh-uh,” the guitarist smirked, applying a touch more pressure to the slender body beneath him. “Yer name first.”

But his admirer stayed as silent as ever, still squirming. Doof frowned. It was rare that any common War Boy would refuse an order from the Doof Warrior. “Come on, kid – spit ya name out n’ I’ll let ya go.”

It was disappointing. Clearly the boy enjoyed watching his every move but had no desire to be pinned by him. Doof couldn’t work it out. By nature War Boys were the opposite of shy; they couldn't afford to be as half-lives. Coma wasn't even sure he wanted to let this strange boy go so soon after he'd caught him.

There was a pause in the boy's wriggling, and he finally lay still. Heat radiated from his body which was still as taut and tense as a new guitar string beneath the musician. For a moment Doof could feel the boy just gaze at him, the light brush of warm breath ghosting over his cheek.

“…Gecko.”

The voice was lilting, and so quiet that Coma's sharp ears nearly missed it despite being so close. A quiet War Boy with a quiet voice. Fucking weird. At least his name was fitting. Doof half wondered if the kid really did have sticky hands and feet like his namesake lizard.

True to his word, the Immortan's Herald loosened his grip. He hadn't even released Gecko's wrists properly when the boy scrambled backwards, making the hammock jolt wildly. Doof grabbed the edge to steady himself, listening to the frantic scraping as Gecko scaled the wall.

"Wait!" He called out, hearing Gecko hesitate.

"Come back sometime. N' don't be so flighty neither, s' not like I bite unless ya want me to." Doof smirked, unable to help himself. Stirring up the clearly nervous boy was fun.

Another second of silence and then the panicked footsteps began again until the little guitarist knew he was alone once more.

Soft. The boy had been soft. 

Gecko didn't slow his pace until he reached the top of the Citadel where the green grew. He collapsed onto his belly in the leafy shrubs, breathing heavily, and then he smiled into the ground, grabbing fistfuls of the vines as the sensation of a hundred tiny V8s buzzed through his stomach.


End file.
